No More Time for Tears
by BookCaseGirl
Summary: The first night he left her, Blair Waldorf shed no tears. Five drabbles, four nights of Blair Waldorf crying over Chuck Bass. Because who wouldn't, really?


**Title: **No More Time for Tears

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **September 8, 2009

**Rating: **T

**Classification: **Angst.

_**Summary: The first night he left her, Blair Waldorf shed no tears. Five drabbles, four nights of Blair Waldorf crying over Chuck Bass. Because who wouldn't, really?**_

**Author's Note: **All chapter stories that I am writing are on hiatus. If you'd like an explanation, please visit my profile, just because I didn't want an extremely long author's note. Okay...I'm writing this part later than the first bit because I'm a bit happier and excited. Who is freakin' psyched for the premiere on Monday!? I Can't watch, but plan to get up at 3 AM Tuesday and get it off iTunes lol (:

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl.

This is unbeta'd.

* * *

The first night he left her, Blair Waldorf shed no tears.

Chuck walked out the door, his glass of scotch still in his hand, and it closed with a frightening slam behind him.

She read the news in the papers – _Heir of Bass Industries off in France, What Would His Daddy Think? _- every morning at breakfast, she saw his scruffy face in the corner of the screen on the evening news.

All Blair wanted was to go back to him and fall into his arms. She wanted Chuck to whisper fairytale words into her ear and smooth her hair down, the way that no one knew he always did. They would fall back onto her fluffed bed and make sweet love until the inevitable moment – the time when he left again.

_***********_

The second time Chuck Bass left, Blair shed two tears.

"_Of course you'd go back to Nate; seek his advice. Mine's never good enough, is it? And you're weak, you're a damn weakling, Blair. So just go – go back to him. Leave me alone."_

Every word of that little mantra had played in her head for hours after Chuck walked out of the restaurant. She sipped at her martini, staring at the seat he had vacated so long ago and shooting looks of longing to the door that never swung open to reveal a dapper Chuck. The restaurant closed eventually, but it was like she was invisible.

And she was too much of a weakling to leave, so she went and hid in the kitchen. Roll after roll was popped into her mouth. All Blair could think of was his words – _you're weak, you're a damn weakling, Blair –_ and they continued to echo inside of her mind until every drop of vomit had fallen from her lips and plopped into one of the green-tiled toilets of the restaurant bathrooms.

Blair Waldorf was weak. If Chuck Bass – the love of her life; her one and only true soul-mate (not that she had ever _really _believed in them) – told her so, then useless (weak) she was.

_**********_

The third time he left, Blair counted the endless tears that flowed from her chocolate-brown eyes. Thirty-nine.

Chuck was packing a suitcase and slowly – slowly, but surely – salty water slipped down her red cheeks. She sniffled loudly, making her presence known, but he showed no acknowledgement of her. His shoulders were tense, his breathing loud and gruff.

She didn't even know what to do anymore. Everything Blair said was wrong, and she was completely at a loss. Chuck and Blair were in a pointless rut of _fight, fight, fight,_ and neither was able to break it. She was afraid this would be the final straw. He was ready to leave her. And they'd been doing so well.

Blair missed him every day for that week he was gone. She'd called hotel after hotel – in this country and the next – but to no avail. No more tears after that night, though. She made sure to breathe deeply, thinking of every single thing Chuck had ever done to piss her off. It helped, it really did.

He came back. Because without him, she was an empty void that was begging to be filled. And without her, he was only a shell of a man. They weren't real, weren't solid, when they were apart from each other.

_***********_

The next time Chuck left Blair, she shed one-hundred and sixty-three tears.

"_I don't give a fuck what you do, Blair! Take the test, go to the doctor. They both sound the same to me! It _all _sounds the same to me! I don't care anymore!"_

"_You can't mean that."_

"_That's the thing. This time, I really do." **Slam.**_

The words were like a searing burn on her skin, a burn that sizzled and festered all the way down to the core of her heart. She wasn't able to stop crying during the entire space of time when he wasn't there. Her chest physically hurt and her stomach lurched at every fleeting memory in her brain (however unwanted those memories may have been).

She fell down, sobs shaking her from the inside out. Everything spun, but it never went black. This was the worst kind of punishment – to be away from Chuck.

_**********_

The next time Blair cried, Chuck was right by her side, holding her hand through every single one of the two-hundred and one tears.

A different cry broke through her bleary haze and she stopped, staring wide-eyed at the creature that had somehow (it was inconceivable) come out of _her_. The little girl screamed and wailed and scrunched her eyes shut, but as soon as her daddy held her, she fell silent.

Wide eyes were gazing up at Chuck, and Blair felt tear number two-hundred and two slip away from the corner of her eye. He saw the clear liquid stream down to the corner of her lips, settling in a crevice. He cradled their child in one arm – one strong, sturdy arm that was warm with the love of a new father – and kissed the corner of her lip where the saltwater had fallen.

"No more time for tears," he murmured as he pulled away from her, pecking their lips together again. "We can be happy now."

And that was the raw, total truth. Chuck and Blair were married, blessed with their first child. No more fights – with the exception of an occasional lover's spat, because that was what kept every relationship alive (the makeup sex of course) – and a lot more loving (God, she had never wanted to voluntarily use that word. What had happened to Blair Waldorf?).

**End Note: **This was short. I wanted to write something, lol. And when I started this, about a week ago, I was in a decidedly more angsty mood than when I finished. It had a happy ending though, which is always great (:


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